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Updated: May 16, 2025
Ignat would approvingly say when informed of his son's progress. "We'll go to Astrakhan for fish in the spring, and toward autumn I'll send you to school!" The boy's life rolled onward, like a ball downhill. Being his teacher, his aunt was his playmate as well. Luba Mayakin used to come, and when with them, the old woman readily became one of them.
Foma examined them in company with his father, but was still unsatisfied and returned to the steamer gloomy and fatigued. "Tomorrow we shall be in Astrakhan," said Ignat one day. "And is it just the same as the other cities?" "Of course. How else should it be?" "And what is beyond Astrakhan?" "The sea. The Caspian Sea it is called." "And what is there?" "Fishes, queer fellow!
He was at home: his loud, somewhat hoarse laughter was heard from the open windows of the rooms. The noise of the carriage, which stopped at the house, caused Ignat to look out of the window, and at the sight of his son he cried out with joy: "Ah! You've come."
"There is no sin now!" she retorted, turning her back to the steps and propping up her right leg as she vigorously beat the sheepskin coat. Ignat playfully threatened her then smiled and said to Ivanov: "A fine girl, isn't she?... She is not yet sixteen and is already a flirt! Its no use talking to her. She won't remain in the house at night, but must go slipping off somewhere."
He went into the cow-house, then returned, sat down on a step, and rolled a cigarette. The pungent odour of his bad tobacco mingled with the sweet aroma of dying foliage and melting snow. Beyond the river a church bell was ringing for the Lenten festival, and there was a melancholy thrill in its notes as they crossed the water. "That must be the seventh Gospel," said Ignat.
His own weary eyes involuntarily saddened for a moment; then he said cheerily, in a louder tone than necessary: "Well, isn't that the right attitude? Isn't it the best way? Love while you can, Aganka, have a happy time." "Oh, yes, let her have a happy time by all means ... it is young blood's privilege." replied Ignat. The bells again rang out for the Gospel. The sky grew darker and darker.
Mayakin smiled, winking to Ignat. And yet, even when Foma was nineteen years old, there was something childish in him, something naive which distinguished him from the boys of his age. They were laughing at him, considering him stupid; he kept away from them, offended by their relations toward him.
Finally Ignat arose from the floor, kicked the priest, and, flinging at him a package of money, said morosely, with a smile: "Rabble! Can a man repent before such people? Some are afraid to hear of repentance, others laugh at a sinner. I was about to unburden myself completely; the heart trembled. Let me, I thought. No, I didn't think at all. Just so! Get out of here!
"There is but one man on earth more sinful than was the late Ignat and that is that cursed heathen, your godfather Yashka," ejaculated the old man. "Are you sure of it?" inquired Foma, smiling. "I? Of course, I am!" said Shchurov, confidently, nodding his head, and his eyes became somewhat darker. "I will also appear before the Lord, and that not sinless.
And the sun shone cheerfully and playfully upon the old worn-out body, which yet retained a youthful soul, and upon the old life, that was adorning, according to its strength and abilities, the life-path of two children. Ignat used to go to the Exchange early in the morning and sometimes stayed away until evening; in the evening he used to go to the town council or visiting or elsewhere.
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